


Let Us Cling Together

by fun_it



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: AIDS, After Life, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Car Accidents, Death, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Mourning, Other, ghost - Freeform, greif
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:06:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26236870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fun_it/pseuds/fun_it
Summary: Shortly after Freddie's death, the band fall into mounts of grief and despair - their best friend was dead. Queen could not continue. And Roger was left appointed to pick up the pieces of his broken band, his family. But... that doesn't always end well.
Kudos: 12





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This idea was something I had originally had come up with for another fandom a long while ago, but never got around to writing, and I thought it would fit nicely for Queen. Hope you enjoy! :)
> 
> !!Disclaimer - almost all events in this story are fictional and I do not mean to harm the image of any person mentioned in this story!!

_"Don't bother coming, he's gone."_

Those were the last words that Roger Taylor had heard from Freddie's house. He was on his way; he was painfully close. But just out of reach. It felt unfair - totally and utterly cruel. He was barely 45 - he didn't deserve this, no one deserved this. 

They had expected it sometime soon, they all knew it was unlikely he would make it to Christmas, which was the entire reason Riger had been travelling to Garden Lodge on the 24th of November. It was the wrong day - he should've left earlier instead of being held back to have breakfast... or went last week with Brian to deliver his present. 

But, alas, he was too late. Tears obscured his hazy vision as the news dawned upon him. Freddie was dead. Pulling in to a lay-by, Roger's head hit the wheel, his entire body shuddering, loud and painful sobs echoed through the car. It was wrong, so god-awfully wrong. It was too early, he still had so much left to live for - so much life he had yet to experience.

None of his wishings changed the fact that, indeed, Freddie Mercury was dead.


	2. Fight from the Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are finding it hard to come to terms with the loss of their singer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Disclaimer - Almost all events that occur in this book are totally fictional and I do not mean to harm the image of any person mentioned!!

"Fuck off!" Brian slurred, forcefully shoving Roger in the chest as he passed by, a nearing empty bottle of vodka swinging loosely in his hand. The stages of grief between the remaining band members had hit hard and fast. Brian had resorted to drinking, trying to wash away his emotions, not wanting to seem weak in front of everyone. John had made a radio silence, totally disappearing off the face of the Earth, and when he was around, there were very few words exchanged. And Roger... he was just trying to pick up the pieces, masking his own emotions to be the rock for his friends to lean on. 

And the current task at hand? Stop Brian from drowning in alcohol, and to get it out of his system. "You have no idea! No fucking clue - I haven't seen you show any emotion over this at all!" He continued, yelling loud, this wasn't Brian talking. No, this was the alcohol, Brian would never dare to say such a thing. Whilst Roger stood in stunned silence, and John watched on with wide eyes, the blows continued. "You were his best friend, weren't you? 'Ride or die', wasn't that the term Fred used? -"

"We were all his best friend," Roger cut in calmly, the only way he could face Brian's fury with. 

"And you can't even shed a single fucking tear over him, you-"

"Bullshit!" He shouted, not wanting to take it anymore. It was the first time Roger had raised his voice at them since being in the studio for the last time, the first time since Freddie had passed. "Can you even hear yourself, Bri? How fucking _selfish_ you sound?!" 

Brian chose to ignore his words, taking a large swig of vodka straight from the bottle. "And stop fucking drinking!" Roger yelled again, attempting to grab it from the guitarist's hand, "I didn't even think you liked vodka!"

"Piss off," he grumbled again, harshly putting the bottle down and sliding on his coat.

"No - no! Don't you dare leave, we came here to discuss the songs we have left - and instead you turn up absolutely shitfaced."

He didn't listen, instead just turning his back and walking out of John's house where a taxi was waiting for him. Sighing, Roger slumped down onto an armchair, looking at John expectantly - either to actually get some business done or to be kicked out, he just wanted him to say something.

Clearing his throat, he eventually said, "I think it's still too early."

"Deaky, it's been 6 months... of we were able to manage the tribute concert, surely this would be so much easier. To sit, together, and go through those final recordings," He tried to desperately explain. "...Whether it be with or without Brian..." Roger fiddled with the hem of his shirt, if he could get through to John, it'd feel so much more like Queen. Freddie may not be there, and Brian may have been too far into his own depression... but with at least one member of the band with him, Roger knew he'd feel all the more comfortable working on what would be Queen's final bow before stepping out of the music industry as a group for the final time.

"Rome wasn't built in a day." John finally responded simply.

"Okay... okay. I understand." He stood, brushing his hair flat and doing up his jacket in preparation to leave. Not before turning back to look at the bassist with a sad smile placed on his lips. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

John replied with a curt nod, and Roger knew it was time to take his leave, for good, and give his fellow band members some space for a while to clear their heads, to allow him to clear his head. 

"God Fred, you'd know how to deal with us all if you were here," He whispered to himself exasperatedly as he slid into the driver's seat of his car, turning the key to the ignition and setting off down the street back to his own house - or a pub. Whichever he came by first.


End file.
